


it started with a letter;

by johnlockaf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluffy and Cute, John going to work, M/M, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6584704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlockaf/pseuds/johnlockaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>love is spread through an abundance of things like small smiles, shared glances, and loving embraces. in this case, it took the form of words printed upon a paper. words filled with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it started with a letter;

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this because my mind was just going crazy from all these domestic headcanons and i needed to completely visualise it. thank you reading, i hope you enjoy xxx

It started with a letter.

 

John had just gotten message that funds weren’t in their best form. He had to get a job.

 

It took no less than a few days for John to acquire a sufficient one. Though, it took a lot more for him to actually get up and work. He was reluctant to leave Sherlock. They’d just married four months ago, and leaving him from eight to five most of the week was not in his favour.

 

Sherlock had seen the decline in John’s attitude and how he was suffering from this. It was making him rather upset.

 

After a moment of brainstorming, Sherlock had an idea. It was small, but he thought it’d do the trick.

 

+++

 

The alarm clock blared and John rose from his bedside as he did everyday. Sherlock sighed, missing the warmth that John had provided beside him. He listened intently as John manoeuvred his way to the bathroom, waiting until he heard the shower head start.

 

Then almost immediately, Sherlock leaped out of bed not even bothering to grab his robe. He flew down the hallway and into the sitting room in search of paper. Post-its, napkins, whatever he could find, he was running out of time. Anything would do.

 

Once he had found his material, he quickly grabbed a pen and closed his eyes as his mind went to work.

 

He slipped the paper into John’s pre-prepared lunch and swiftly returned to bed. He smiled to himself, in hope that John would love it.

 

+++

 

Twelve o’clock in the afternoon had finally hit its mark. John, of course, couldn’t stop checking the time until then. He sighed as he exited the room and switched off the lights. The ‘same shit, different day’ pattern wasn’t his preferred life style.

 

He ventured to his locker and grabbed his lunch like he always did. Following suit, he went to the break room. He didn’t quite enjoy this place. It was filled with people he didn’t like and tasks he didn’t want to carry out. Coming here was draining, but he needed the money. _He and Sherlock_ needed the money.

 

Glumly, he opened his bag, pulling out the tupperware he prepared late last night due to his inability to sleep. In doing so, he noticed something peculiar. A small piece of paper floated down onto the table. He assumed it was a just a receipt or something of the sort, but out of curiosity, he read it anyway.

 

He unraveled it and cleared his throat:

 

“Dear John,

 

I do hope you are having a great day today. You deserve it so much. I miss you and I love you. I can’t wait to see you home. Don’t forget to smile for me.

 

Love, your Sherlock”

 

And at that, John couldn’t help but smile. He even let a small giggle escape. People were looking, but he could care less. Because if anything, they should be glad the grumpy ex-war surgeon is smiling and laughing to himself.

 

He was so happy that he almost didn’t notice the cute little bee that was drawn on the bottom right corner of the paper. This made his heart flutter. He was a lucky man.

 

From that moment forward, John smiled the entire day. It was that same happiness that gave him an idea.

 

He soon grabbed a pen and a piece of notebook paper and began to write.

 

+++

 

It was hours after John had returned home. He and Sherlock had taken their assumed spots on the sofa and Sherlock seemed enthralled by his book. John tried to pay attention to the multitude of emails he should’ve been answering, but his attention wouldn’t waver from Sherlock.

 

“Sherlock… Now, I know you’re comfortable, but could you do me a favour and get me a glass of water?” John asked, his eyes fixated carefully on Sherlock’s and his lips curving into a smile.

 

Sherlock blinked and waited a small moment before nodding. As he rose, John pulled him down by his arm, pressed a warm kiss to his lips and whispered, “Don’t be long.”

 

Helplessly chuckling into the kiss, Sherlock nodded and pulled away softly. He then waltzed into the kitchen and swung open the fridge, humming to himself with ease. It was only until he focused on the contents of the fridge when his blithe attitude swayed. He eyed a folded piece of paper taped to the (empty, of course) milk carton.

 

It was white with a yellow tint. The curly-queues that were attached to the perforation of the paper remained. There was a small coffee stain near the edge of the fold. John wrote this at work, just after lunch.

 

Narrowing his vision, he carefully ripped the note from it’s previous home and quietly unfolded it in his hands, trying his best to prevent John from hearing.

 

It read:

 

“Life is long, as well as love

It all depends on what they are filled of

Be it joy, be it sorrow; Be it glee or glum

You will always be my number one

 

I have wholeheartedly given my love to you

For there is nothing I wouldn’t do

I thank you dearly for all you have done

For it is my heart, that you have won

 

— I love you Sherlock Holmes

Thank you for making me smile

 

Love, your John”

 

Sherlock’s lip quivered uncontrollably and his smile was near uncontainable. He never imagined John would reciprocate his little idea. He was so delighted, he hadn’t realised the generous amount of time that passed.

 

“Sherlock? You alright in there?” John softly asked.

 

Without even bothering to reply, Sherlock laughed warmly to himself one last time before shutting the fridge and dashing back into the sitting room.

 

“John Watson, I love you,” Sherlock cooed with tears of happiness remaining in the corners of his eyes.

 

John smiled and stood up. He knew he had read the note. “I love you too, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

Straightaway and without hesitation, Sherlock dropped the piece of paper and ran up to John, encasing him in a large hug. His arms wrapped tightly around John’s neck and his face buried deep into it as well.

 

They knew their marriage would consist of nothing but blissful moments such as these.

 

Laughs, smiles, embraces, small actions of love; these were the things both Sherlock and John craved for.

 

They were in love, and they would be for a very long time.


End file.
